Help Yourself
by Diamond-04
Summary: WARNING: WEIGHT GAIN KINK if you are not comfortable with this PLEASE DON'T READ! Pre-series 1. Mycroft and Sherlock fancy Lestrade. They both think he'll choose Sherlock because of Mycroft's weight. They couldn't be more wrong.
1. Chapter 1

.I

Sherlock and Mycroft stared longingly at the man leaving through the flat's door. Ever since they had met, both brothers had been smitten with the Detective Inspector. They knew it would be a challenge worthy of them to get to him; married, though unhappily, and painfully in denial of his –at least- bisexuality. Not to add that they would have to outdo each other to win the man's affections.

Mycroft stared at his brother's smug grin. They both knew he was in clear disadvantage; popular opinion stated that Sherlock had gotten all the good genes as far as appearance went. He had the beautiful face, the chiseled body, the seductively low voice… he even smelled nice most of the time, even if he decided showering was _boring_ for a week or so. Mycroft felt nothing but contempt for his brother at the moment. It had been a long time since he felt for someone the way he did for Lestrade, and he didn't want to lose him, not to Sherlock.

His younger brother let out an almost silent laugh while looking at Mycroft from head to toe, stopping for a moment in his midsection.

-You must be insane, dear brother, if you think for a second that he'd lay eyes on you with me in the room.

He had summarized all of Mycroft's thoughts in one, terribly hurtful phrase. Mycroft had to admit that he had let himself go a little as of late. Unlike his brother, he did have a tendency to overeat and, consequently, to gain weight. Lately he had been cheating on his so-called diet more often than not and it was beginning to show, especially around the middle, where his trousers started to dig in a little bit… much to Sherlock's delight.

Mycroft simply smiled at his brother and made an inner promise to start watching what he ate those days.

-We'll see. Good evening, Sherlock

.II

Mycroft stared down at his plate and sneered. That thing he had just eaten could not be considered a proper meal under any circumstances. Perhaps, he thought, he could help himself to a little treat of the hundreds that Sherlock appeared to be sending his way lately. It wasn't a brilliant strategy to make him gain weight but what baffled Mycroft the most was that it seemed to be actually _working. _He absently ran a hand over his protruding belly. He wasn't _losing_ any weight; that much he knew. Oh, who was that 'diet' fooling anyway? Would it really hurt that much if he had just one tiny, little piece of cake?

If he had known Lestrade was on his way to his office he would at least have made the piece a little smaller. When the DI walked through his door he was face-first into his plate. Now, Mycroft wasn't a messy eater -quite the opposite, really- but there was no mistaking his actions in that particular situation: fork on the way to his mouth, chocolate glaze dripping from it, and an expression of utter joy on his face. He could almost see the amused smile on Lestrade's face as he stared silently, seemingly at a loss for words. Mycroft could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He couldn't have imagined a more embarrassing situation if he tried.

Trying his best to keep his composure, he cleared his throat, lowered the fork to his plate and motioned the DI to come in and sit down. Lestrade did his best to act unaffected but from time to time he eyed the enormous piece of cake still sitting on Mycroft's desk.

-I'm terribly sorry to bother you; you know I wouldn't if I didn't need to...

-Please, Gregory; it's always a pleasure to help you.

He had, on several occasions, assisted the DI on some cryptic case Sherlock wouldn't take or -as much as he regretted to admit- couldn't solve. It wasn't much of a pleasure for him to do so, but to have and excuse to spend a couple of minutes with Lestrade was simply bliss.

They spent some time talking about the case, which turned out to be quite puzzling but certainly not impossible. Mycroft had a couple of theories that, if proven true, would definitely alleviate Lestrade's work a great deal.

-Dear God, Mycroft, I don't even know how to thank you anymore.

An idea flew through Mycroft's mind, swift as light and almost too timid to turn into words. He spoke before he would change his mind.

-Dinner, perhaps? Are you busy tonight?

He almost regretted the words when he saw the look on Lestrade's face. He was most definitely surprised, shocked to be quite honest. He wasn't really horrified, at least, but he was almost there.

-Um… No. I mean yes! I mean…

He paused for a second to try to find the words. Mycroft found it quite nerve wrecking but tried not to let it show too much.

-No; I'm not busy tonight. Um, dinner would be… good. Yes, good.

He let out a nervous laugh. Mycroft almost sighed in relief, but he was able to contain himself.

-Say, seven? I'll have a car pick you up.

Lestrade was silent for and instant. His smile was sad as he began speaking in a softer voice than before.

-I'm not currently staying at home. You see, me and the wife…

-You don't have to explain. I am aware of your situation. Seven it is then?

Mycroft felt somehow concerned that Lestrade would be offended by the fact that he knew so much about his personal life, but he appeared to be quite relieved, in fact. He smiled an honest smile then.

-Seven would be great.


	2. Chapter 2

.III

Mycroft stared at his reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time that evening. He wasn't exactly pleased with the way his clothes fit -or didn't fit, more like- but he decided that that suit would be his best option for the night. Elegant, discrete and not to too unyielding… 'For now' added his mind in a flash of cruelness. Trying not to think too much about the man in the mirror he drew in a deep breath and headed outside.

On his way to Lestrade's place his phone buzzed and lit up. Staring at him from the screen was a text message from Sherlock. Wasn't it a bit predictable, perhaps?

_I hope you enjoy your food tonight. Then again, you always do. SH_

Mycroft was feeling too anxious already to allow himself to be disturbed by Sherlock's message. He quickly typed a response just as the car parked at its destination.

_I will enjoy the company even more. MH_

As the DI got in the car Mycroft's phone disappeared into his pocket for the rest of the night.

The conversation between them was surprisingly animated. They had almost always discussed business and it was a pleasant turn of events to find out they could actually talk to each other about other things; not awkward silences, no small talk for the most part. Mycroft actually smiled to himself in relief a couple of times, while Gregory was monopolizing the conversation.

Gregory's face when arriving at the restaurant was priceless. Mycroft knew he had probably never set foot on a place that distinguished and he was doing a terrible job at hiding it too. He smiled in amusement and declared:

-Don't worry. I'll take care of the bill.

Gregory laughed but didn't contradict him. The poor man would most likely have to sell his house to pay even for dessert.

They were placed and served almost immediately, as it was customary for Mycroft. Things were going smoothly so far, so he allowed himself to relax a bit and enjoy his meal. Not his brightest idea. Gregory's question caught him with a not-so-small piece of meat in mid-swallow. It is a wonder he didn't choke to death.

-Mycroft, I've been meaning to ask you; this… isn't a date… Is it?

Mycroft struggled not to die from asphyxiation for a couple of seconds, which also gave him the time to think of a moderately appropriate response.

-It is whatever you want it to be. It may be just a dinner between good friends if that makes you feel less uncomfortable.

Gregory sat back on his seat and smiled broadly

-Actually, I was kind of expecting it was. A date, I mean. I'm having fun, really. I'm glad you asked me to come, Mycroft.

Gregory's smile was timid but honest. Mycroft could feel the piece of meat being released from the knot on his chest and finally descending to his stomach.

.IV

Sherlock was positively furious when he found out everything had gone so amazingly between his brother and his prospective boyfriend. Mycroft wouldn't let the opportunity to see his brother in such a state if it cost him his life. Which it probably would.

He made sure to arrive unannounced to his place one afternoon 'merely by chance' when Lestrade was discussing a case with Sherlock. He sat down next to him, a hand brushing his knee on occasion, devious grin glued on his face.

If Lestrade noticed the building tension between the Holmes brothers he didn't show it at all. He actually looked quite comfortable giving Mycroft enamored looks and pecks on the cheek under Sherlock's death-glare. Mycroft could have sworn he was in fact doing it to piss off his brother even more. He was in heaven.

Sherlock had made a couple of remarks of what a terrible couple they made, or how he could not imagine how someone would want to date Mycroft for other reason that money, but they just both laughed it off.

-But of course, it is a surprise to us all, Detective Inspector, that you have so blatantly chosen to disclose your preference for, how shall I put it? Larger men.

Mycroft's chuckle was not joined by Lestrade's this time. For a second both Holmes brothers were oblivious of what had just happened, even looking at the man's now bright red face. And then it hit Mycroft in the chest like a bag of rocks: it was true.


	3. Chapter 3

.V

In a split of a second Mycroft went from white, to pale green, to furious red. He simply couldn't believe what he had just heard; it was preposterous! Even Sherlock remained speechless as Gregory tried to articulate something similar to a proper English phrase, very unsuccessfully.

-I-I promise it's not like that at all, Mycroft. It's not that I like you _because_ of that. I mean I_ like_ that, but not… I mean it's not the only thing I like about you. I like all of you, I do, I swear.

Mycroft closed his eyes for a second. He tried to figure out what he was feeling at that moment, which was a remarkably difficult task. He was ashamed, yes -Sherlock's gaze was not very forgiving- but he could not bring himself to be angry. A part of his brain wondered, could he really blame Gregory for his… what to call it? taste? Unusual as it were. It wasn't news to him that the man liked him physically.

-Are you attracted to me because of my weight, Gregory?

Lestrade swallowed with some difficulty.

-I am attracted to you because of who you are. Your mind, your face, your laugh and…

He sighed before finishing the sentence.

-Yes. Your weight too.

He lowered his head a bit in defeat.

-I'm sorry.

The corner of Mycroft's mouth twitched.

-And what if… I decided to lose it.

Sherlock's snort was short lived, since both other men stared at him with daggers in their eyes.

-I would… complain a little, I admit it.

He put his hand on Mycroft's arm.

-But it is your body and I'd respect what you decide to do with it. And I'd support you no matter what.

He still felt a bit offended, but decided he could live with this. He actually could.

-And what if I decided…

He eyed his brother mid-sentence to remind him to stay completely silent if he valued his life. Years of coexistence had helped him perfect that look.

-…to gain a bit more.

The room stood silent for a minute. Then Gregory finally decided to speak.

-I… would respect that too. I really, really would.

Mycroft allowed himself a little smile at last. He noticed he was feeling kind of relieved, actually.

-Excellent. This dreadful diet was starting to get on my nerves, to be quite honest.

He stood up to leave, Gregory following him right after.

-So, you're not upset then?

Mycroft grabbed him by the wrist and drew him close.

-Quite surprisingly, not in the least.

He was being quite honest too. It was high time he was loved for who he was, and began loving himself too.

He laid a small kiss on the other man's lips and headed towards the door.

-Dinner then? I'll make the reservations.

Gregory stood there in disbelief for a moment, then looked at an even more confounded Sherlock Holmes and shrugged. He headed outside with the biggest grin on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

.VI

Mycroft traced the length of his index finger with his tongue for any remains of chocolate crème. He knew the effect that that small action would have on Gregory; without even a single glance, he was certain that his face at that sight would be positively devious. And he was absolutely right. Without so much as a warning the other man pressed his lips to Mycroft's, taking pleasure in the sweet taste of chocolate still lingering in his mouth. It was evident that Gregory had been waiting for this moment the entire meal –especially dessert-; his hands went straight to his midsection, no hesitation, no doubt. Mycroft had to laugh.

-Again?

Greg didn't sound as annoyed as one would have expected in that situation. He kept laying small kisses on Mycroft's jawline and unbuttoning his shirt.

-I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just that I still can believe you like it so much, that's all.

He eyed his own, now exposed, bulging belly. It was truly impressive how much he had gained in just a couple of weeks. It seemed that his middle was taking most of the weight, and it felt doughy and soft underneath his hands. And Gregory loved it. Mycroft… was coming to terms with it. He was enjoying himself to no end though, and it seemed that he had no plans to start his diet again any time soon. He simply loved food, and was having the greatest of times; being able to eat without having to worry about the consequences was a complete novelty for him.

-But you are still ok with it?

Mycroft let out a small laugh again. It seemed that Gregory was feeling more insecure about the whole deal than Mycroft ever did.

-Of course I am.

Their kiss was even more passionate this time around. While Mycroft grabbed onto the arms of his chair for dear life, Greg's hands could not stay still; Mycroft's chest, and legs, and stomach -of course-, and neck and stomach again... everything was caressed with skilled, eager hands. Mycroft could feel himself becoming undone. His breath was quickening, his temperature rising… When Gregory finally laid a not-so-timid hand on his crotch, Mycroft though it was going to end right then and there.

Looking up, he saw the mischievous look on Greg's eyes, and immediately after his face lowered to his neck and started sucking ever so slightly. It was bliss.

For a split of a second Mycroft thought about his trousers, that would be irremediably ruined, but he was distracted then by Gregory going lower to his chest and then to his softened tummy. He stopped kissing for a second, carefully squeezed a flabby roll and let out a pleased moan. He resumed his kissing and undid Mycroft's trousers with a velocity that Mycroft had not witnessed before. Gregory took out the other man's erection with one hand while he undid his own pants with the other. He started to pump himself as slowly as he could while licking the length of Mycroft's cock. At that point, Mycroft was finally able to let go of the chair and set a hand on the base of Gregory's neck.

When Greg started sucking Mycroft became a moaning, wiggling mess. Gregory had to stop him from moving so much by laying his free hand over his hip. He took the opportunity to also gently squish his lovehandles with each thrust.

Mycroft became bedazzled at the sight of his own belly, going up and down with each movement, flabbier than ever, and wondered if Greg was enjoying himself as much as he was. His constant whimpering and squishing and sucking suggested he was.

Greg came with a low growl, never letting go of Mycroft. Mycroft knew he was awfully close, so he brought one hand over Greg's to let him know. He looked up but didn't stop, just increased the pace. After a few more seconds he came inside his mouth as hard as he ever had.

Greg went to sit on Mycroft's lap and they both stayed there silently for a minute, trying to regain their breaths.

After a while, Greg noticed that Mycroft was discretely looking at something behind him. He turned around and immediately discovered what it was.

-Are you… are you eyeing the rest of the cake? Mycroft, you had two pieces just now.

Mycroft realized that denying anything would be useless. He couldn't help blushing a little, though.

-Gregory, look at me in the eye and tell me you are not letting me have one more piece. Darling, I dare you.

Greg immediately stood up and went for the knife. The slice he cut was the biggest Mycroft had seen in all his life.


End file.
